


In the Wee Small Hours

by Tanista



Series: Domestic Adventures [22]
Category: MacGyver (TV 1985), MacGyver (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Adventures, Early Mornings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Insomnia, Light Angst, Mac's Guitar, Mac's guilt complex, Nightmares and Insomnia, Post-Kidnapping, Santa Monica Pier, Uncle-Niece Relationship, early morning conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanista/pseuds/Tanista
Summary: While dealing with Murdoc-induced nightmares and insomnia, Becky and MacGyver comfort each other after her kidnapping.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Family Resemblance Part II.

\--June, 1990--

_Together they slid down the cable towards freedom. She held on tightly to MacGyver, but her grip unexpectedly loosened and they separated, her hands slipping from his grasp. She reached in vain up to him but he was gone. She fell through fire and pain until finally landing in Murdoc's arms. He grinned triumphantly as her struggle to escape only bound herself even closer to him with tight, unyielding chains; they dragged her down with him, through more fire and more pain into endless, terrifying darkness..._

"No!" Becky woke with a start, her breathing ragged and painful, the dream so real she could have sworn her skin was burnt to a crisp. For a while she stared up at the ceiling, taking deep, slow breaths as she willed her pounding heart to slow, then finally sat up. Outside her window night still hung; with a sigh she laid back against the pillows, checking the clock on the bedside table: 2:45 a.m.

 _Great,_ she thought sourly. _Another round of nightmares and insomnia courtesy of Murdoc. When will it end?_

It was the fourth day since her rescue, three of those spent with Mac in the hospital for observation. Each night had been a return to the ordeal of her kidnapping- a reminder of what was almost lost and a warning of what might have to be faced again in the future if the assassin ever resurfaced- followed by restless hours full of fear and worry. Sleeping aids provided by the nurses had not helped one bit. She hoped a night's rest in her own more comfortable bed would do the trick but true restful slumber was stubbornly remaining elusive.

She freely admitted to being a night-owl, but it was frankly getting ridiculous. _I wonder if Mac's having an easier time of it now that he's back in his own bed?_

Becky considered checking up on him but eventually decided against it, not feeling ready yet to share the dream's nightmarish content. Knowing MacGyver as well as she did he would probably just add it on as part of all the other guilt he carried inside- undeserved or not- and blame himself for the whole thing. _No_ , she decided, _best to leave him alone for now. Maybe hot chocolate and early-morning TV would prove better cures instead for my insomnia. And if that doesn't work,_ _I'll dig Mac's brown leather jacket out of the coat closet to use as a security blanket again. Haven't done that since he spent time in the hospital a few months back._

She smiled fondly at the thought as she reached for her glasses and got out of bed. To her that jacket represented everything she loved about Mac, the softness of the material and a combination of scents- leather, honest sweat, pine, campfire smoke, aftershave- and emotions- safety, warmth, protection, acceptance- that Becky could only define as home, soothing away her fears every time she pulled it around her when things got tough. _Yeah, I really like wearing it when I need comforting. B_ _ut I gotta admit,_ she realized as the smile turned wry, _I like it more when **he's** got it on instead!_

As the young woman made her way downstairs to the main floor of the apartment she heard the soft strumming of her uncle's guitar. _Guess he's not getting any sleep either._ She paused in the doorway, watching him sitting on the couch, head bent down as he played a few chords on the instrument then leaning over to make notations on the lined paper resting on the coffee table before trying out more notes and writing them down; from her viewpoint she was just able to read on top the handwritten title: _Waltz For Rebecca_. She smiled as the emerging tune- slow, stately, delicate and beautiful- washed over her.

Finally she cleared her throat and MacGyver looked up, surprised. "Hey, Becky." His Midwestern accent was even softer than usual with the early hour. "Did I wake you?"

"Not really. Couldn't sleep."

He sighed, resting an arm on top of the guitar. "Yeah, me neither. I thought workin' on my music would help me relax."

"Is it helping?"

"Not really. Got a lot on my mind."

"Me too." She picked up a dark green blanket, wrapped it around her pajamas and curled up on the opposite corner of the couch- her usual spot when they weren't having their 'quality cuddle time' together. "I haven't been able to sleep well for the past few days, actually. And when I try I have nightmares."

"Murdoc?"

"Yeah."

He grimaced. "Sorry about that."

"Why apologize? It's his fault, not yours. The guy's insane. He didn't have to go and become obsessed after you stopped him from killing you and Pete in Jack's taxi all those years ago. I don't hold you responsible for what he did to me. Not at all."

Mac raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You don't?"

"Of course not. You came and rescued me, didn't you?"

"I dunno, Beck." He cocked his head, smiling faintly. "I remember it bein' mutual, when you stood between me and Murdoc."

"God." She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I did that. Now he's after both of us, because I made him hesitate. Was that dumb of me, or what?"

Mac reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Not dumb. Brave. You were brave, standing up to him like that. I won't forget that sight anytime soon. I always knew you had it in you. You have courage when it matters most, and don't you forget it." He abruptly rose from the couch, setting the guitar back in its case. "Get dressed and grab your jacket. We're goin' for a ride."

"At this hour?"

"Why not? Neither of us can sleep and it's not doin' us any good just sitting around like this worrying about him. Maybe some fresh air and a change of scenery will help. C'mon."

"Where are we going?" Becky asked as she climbed into the jeep a short while later. Both of them, she noted, were in casual clothes- jeans and sneakers, t-shirts and jackets.

"West," he replied succinctly.

He drove down the street and turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard. The city had such an eerie quality to it at that early hour, the side streets weirdly quiet and empty save for a siren occasionally echoing far away or the odd homeless person seen curled up in a doorway. The traffic was minimal and the lights changed quickly so it took less time than normal to get where they wanted to go, only coming to a full stop when they finally reached Ocean Avenue. Then they turned left, heading for the empty parking lot a few blocks away.

Mac parked the jeep, taking the key out of the ignition. They walked over to the beach, strolling along the shoreline for a while then over to the pier. She looked up at the neon-lit sign arching over their heads, familiar now after years of visits:

_**Santa Monica** _

_**Yacht Harbor** _

_**Sport Fishing--Boating** _

**_Caf_ _es_ **

In silence uncle and niece walked past the various attractions, amusement rides and restaurants, everything dark and quiet with only seagulls for company. Once they reached the westernmost end they sat on a bench facing the water, Mac sliding an arm across Becky’s shoulders and pulling her close while she slid her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against soft black leather. They stared out at the darkened Pacific Ocean, letting the eternal sound of the waves soothe their troubled minds.

"Are you scared?" she finally asked a while later.

"Terrified," he murmured in reply.

"Me, too. I think that’s why we can’t sleep. Since the remains of Murdoc's body were never found after the factory burned down- not to mention that phone call we got in the hospital the next day- we know he survived. So he's out there, targeting both of us now and we don’t know when or how he'll strike next."

"That worries me too," Mac said. "Pete's got every resource available looking for him. It's clear, though, that Murdoc's disappeared like he always does, crawling back into the woodwork until he's good and ready to go after us again. Hopefully that won't be anytime soon. But that's not the reason why I'm scared- well, not the _only_ reason, anyway."  
  
He looked down at her, deep brown eyes filled with emotion. "I'm afraid for _you_ , sweetheart. He had you drugged and chained for a while. He hurt you, and could've probably done a lot worse, even, if I hadn't gotten there when I did. That's on me. If I'd thought of arranging protection for you while I was gone, or even asked Pete to stick around, then maybe it wouldn't have happened. You should be blaming me for what Murdoc did to you."

She pulled away to glare at him. "Now that's ridiculous. I'm not blaming you, Unc," she snapped, chin raised defensively. "I refuse to do that. I knew the risks when I decided to move in with you almost four years ago. I knew you had enemies back then, and I would have to learn how to deal with them and live with the consequences. And despite everything that's happened to either of us since- all the challenges and adventures, both good and bad- I would still make the same choice again in a heartbeat."  
  
He blinked in surprise. "Really, Becky? After all that- including what you just went through with Murdoc- you'd still have chosen to live with me?"  
  
"Absolutely. Remind me to tell you sometime about the kids I've talked to at the Challengers Club; many of them had to run away from foster care because they were being abused, either by the other kids or the foster parents themselves. You can't imagine how grateful I felt, after hearing their horror stories. You let me decide my future for _myself_ , instead of choosing it for me. I don't remember ever telling you before but I really appreciate it. Thank you." She leaned over to kiss Mac on the cheek.  
  
He smiled, shrugging self-consciously. "You're welcome. You've always been mature and responsible beyond your years, you know, and letting you decide felt like the right thing to do at the time. And- make no mistake- I've genuinely loved having you stay with me over the years. Would've been real lonely without you otherwise. But I gotta admit Becky, if I'd had even the slightest idea back then that I could let this happen to you..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged again. "I might've decided differently, that's all."  
  
She sighed. "Unc, I've always been glad we're honest with each other. But if you believe that what happened with Murdoc was your fault, then you'd have to blame me as well. I could've take more self-defense classes to protect myself, or turned and ran out the door as soon as I saw him in the living room, even though he was carrying a gun. But it happened anyway, and either of us assigning blame or worrying about what we could've or should've done differently doesn't change that fact. As I seem to keep reminding you, we're in this together. Have I demanded more of you than what you're already doing to protect me? Have I asked you to resign from the Foundation? Have I ever, _ever_ , blamed you for the dangerous things that have happened to me, because of who you are and what you do? Even once?"

MacGyver swallowed hard and ran a hand through his light-brown hair, the ends reaching his shoulders in a shaggy cut. He hunched forward, resting his arms on his knees. "No, you haven’t," he finally admitted. "But it's still my fault. Murdoc promised to come for you in that note we found in your bedroom four years ago and I'd forgotten all about it. Because of that, I was too late to prevent it from happening. It almost cost you your life, sweetheart- the one person I love in the world more than anything. I'll never forgive myself for that."

Becky rolled her eyes. Mac and his guilt complex! She loved him dearly but sometimes it was exasperating. They were both stubborn, and from experience she knew that continuing to argue about it usually just made matters worse. It was time to change the subject. "Hey, have you seen my purple hair scrunchy lately? I couldn't find it earlier when I was dressing."

He looked up at her, staring at her for a while before replying- almost reluctantly, she thought. "Yeah, I've seen it. Murdoc had it; he was using it to lure me into the factory. I picked it up and put it my pocket intending to give it back to you, but had to use it later to get out of one of his traps. I know it was your favorite; I'll buy you a new one."

Her eyes widened in shock, hearing only the first part of his sentence. _Murdoc had it? He actually invaded my space, took something that belonged to me to use in his trap? Was kidnapping and using me for bait not enough for that madman?_

"Oh," she said in a small voice, unconsciously raising a hand to the bruises that still showed on her face. "Oh," looking down at her wrists and ankles, remembering the thin scars hidden under her clothes; she would bear those marks of her ordeal for the rest of her life. There was a sudden flash of memory- the manacles cold and tight against her skin, the sting of his hand slapping her face- and she dropped off the bench, falling to her knees. "Oh, oh, oh..." She started shaking and crying uncontrollably, the accumulated tension and fear finding an outlet at last.

MacGyver instantly knelt next to her, pulling her close. "Hey, relax. It's all right. I'm here. You're safe now. I've got you, Becky. Always."

She burrowed into his chest, feeling his warmth and love envelop her. "Oh Unc," she cried, "it was terrible! He was waiting for me, and drugged me, then put me in those manacles. He kept hitting me, when he wasn't calling me Ashton. There was nothing I could do."

"I know, princess," he murmured soothingly. "I know."

She pulled away to look at him, his dark eyes full of compassion and understanding. "You know what the worst part was? I was afraid he was gonna kill me. So afraid that he..." gulping back a sob, "he'd kill me, and I'd leave you all alone. You wouldn't have anyone, and it would be all my fault. You'd hate me."

"Oh Becky," Mac whispered, reaching to cradle her face with his long fingers, thumbs gently tracing the tear streaks. "That's not true. Not true at all. I could never hate you. I'd hate myself instead, for letting anything happen to you. I was afraid for _you_ , sweetheart. So afraid I'd lost you." He pulled her close against him again, kissing the top of her head.

To her surprise she soon heard him cursing the assassin under his breath- using certain four-letter words she'd never heard him utter before, ever- for hurting her, his gentle, sweet-natured niece. _That goes double for me too, Murdoc,_ she thought fiercely. _How dare you keep intruding on our lives like this! The next time we see you it'll be the last, one way or another. That's a promise._

For a long time MacGyver held her, stroking her back and waiting patiently until the fear purged itself and the tension finally ebbed away from her petite body. He then produced a handkerchief and started to wipe her tear-stained face. "Feeling better yet?"

Becky took a deep breath then nodded. "I think so. Guess all I needed was a good long cry. But..." She flushed, looking down in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. It bothers me that you feel so much guilt about things that are beyond your control, but it's not fair for me to take it out on you like that."

Long fingers gently caressed her cheek then drifted down to turn up her chin. "Hey, it's okay. I just can't help gettin' worked up about things, and like I said I almost lost you. That's not something I'll get over any time soon."

"The feeling's mutual, Unc. I almost lost you as well. When I think of what could've happened..." She shook her head, words failing her as tears returned to her eyes. He tenderly wiped them away.  
  
"Me too, Beck," he said softly. "I'm really glad we had this talk. You're right, we're in this together. We'll put Murdoc away behind bars once and for all next time he comes around. Until then, I'll do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe. I love you. So very much. You know that." She nodded again silently in reply. He kissed her forehead, then helped her to stand.

"Uncle Mac?"

"Yeah?"

She wrapped her arms around him, standing on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I love you very much too. Thanks for helping me through this."

Mac smiled and returned the hug. "You're welcome, sweetheart. Let's get outta here, huh? Suddenly I could use some breakfast before heading back home."

Becky looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Breakfast? At this hour?"

"That's twice you've asked that question," he replied, grinning. "Why not? We'll go find one of those all-night coffee shops in town. I'm up for some pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. The sea air always gives me an appetite, doesn't it you?"

She stared at him a moment longer, wondering if he had gone nuts while she wasn't looking. Finally she shook her head with a wry smile. "I hate to admit it, Unc, but Nikki's right. You've got some really strange mood swings sometimes. Good thing you've got me around to look after you, huh? Otherwise God only knows what craziness you'll get up to next."

"You don't know the half of it." MacGyver chuckled. "C'mon, let's get something to eat, then head back home. Since Pete's given us both time off we can sleep in as much as we want." As he spoke Becky found herself yawning; Mac copied her and they smiled at each other. "Hey, I think we've finally cured our insomnia."  
  
"I think you're right," she said. "Food actually sounds really good now. And so does a nice long sleep." She took his arm and they walked back towards the parking lot, both nodding greetings to the early-morning fishermen setting up along the length of the pier. The very earliest touch of dawn peeking over the mountains to the east lighted their features, banishing the last of the nightmares.

 _As surely as day follows night we'll always have each other,_ Becky thought contentedly as they drove off in the jeep in search of food and sweet, restful slumber afterwards _. Nothing and no one- and certainly not Murdoc- can ever truly separate us._


End file.
